


Greyhound, Run

by CornflowerBlue (DayDaDahlias)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Ashton Irwin Loves Luke Hemmings, Bookie Michael Clifford, Calum and Ashton's Relationship is so Sus, Calum is Really... He is Something, Dogs, Drama, Everybody Has a Secret Past, Greyhound Racing, Horseback Rider Calum, Horseback Riding, Horses, Luke Hemmings is a Mess, M/M, Meet-Cute, No Smut, One Shot, Running Away, The Classic City Cat Country Cat Story, This Is The Greyhound Racing Farm AU We All Deserve, dog trainer ashton, forbidden knowledge, monologues, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayDaDahlias/pseuds/CornflowerBlue
Summary: It's a small town—the sort where everyone knows everyone—so when a new car pulls into their lot that he doesn't recognize, and some blonde blue-eyed pretty boy steps out, Ashton's thrown for a loop.But, he's seen it a time before, and he knows the look in someone's eye when they're running from something.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	Greyhound, Run

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in essentially one sitting with the prompt in my head of 'farm au' so, do with that what you will. Brought to you by Ashton Irwin's absolutely smash hit "Greyhound."
> 
> Also, just have to clarify, I know that farms and greyhound racing kennels are usually separate from one another but it's for the aesthetic, guys. And, usually, a farm would have lots more hands (y'know more than just three people??) but that would have been too jumbled, so for plot's sake, Mike, Cal, and Ash are just the most incredible farmers you have ever seen. They don't even need other people. 
> 
> Anyways, all that aside, I hope you enjoy; this was so fun to write. :)

The cattails bend up from the bank of the creek and, as Ashton wanders over the waters’ edge, his boots crunch the stalks in his wake how a kid’s tennis shoes jump on cracks in the sidewalk. 

There’s something about the dawning sun and the gentle ebb of the clear water that makes him feel young again. 

The sun is close to rising. 

He always likes to watch the sunrise from the creek edge. Even after so many years of watching it every morning, it still manages to take his breath away. 

There’s something about how the pink and orange glow sits on the surface of the water for a while, turns the ripples vibrant, before it reaches the middle of the sky and the entire world glows, oh so brilliant, for half of a moment, and Ashton feels the sun warm on his skin for the first time that day. 

“C’mon, Blue, don’t hang back. You don’t wanna miss it,” he beckons over his shoulder and the dog that is following about a hundred feet behind him raises her narrow head and hurries to catch up to him, lean legs gliding over the earth like it’s barely beneath her. 

Ashton isn’t supposed to have favorites on the farm—he knows that, and he’s known that a long time—but he can’t help having a soft spot for Blue. 

She’s this sleek little dog with a grey-blue coat adorned with a white patch on her chest, and these big honey-colored eyes, that bumps into Ashton’s legs when they walk together and yips her excitement whenever a bird moves in the tree branches above them.

She wags her tail as she trails beside him to his favorite part of the creek bank, staring up at him like he’s the one who’s responsible for hanging the sun in the sky. 

“You keep looking at me like that,” Ashton teases her, reaching down to brush her ears with his hand, “and I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

She licks his fingers. 

“Damn you, dog,” he laughs, stopping in his usual place, where a large flat rock occupies the bank just big enough for him to sit comfortably, an impression left from five years of sitting every morning without fail. 

He takes his rightful place on the stone and Blue bounces to his feet. 

“Lay down,” he says and she does as told, tucking her paws beneath her belly on the grass as she settles. He smiles, bending down to rub her snout. “Good girl.” 

He directs his eyes up to the sky then, the way the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, and he lets out a sharp breath as it bathes the earth in fresh light. 

It’s as beautiful every time. 

“Wow,” he breathes, looking down at Blue who is ignoring the sunrise in favor of him. He asks her, “Don’t you love it?”

She promptly squints her eyes and sneezes on his shoes. 

He laughs again, because he thinks it’s alright that she isn’t as in love with the sunrise as he is. Really, what’s a sunrise to a dog, anyway? The same as a flea on its back, dirt beneath its paws, a scratch on the nose. Just life. 

Life is awfully simple for a dog. 

“You’ve got it easy, y’know,” he tells Blue and she blinks those honey eyes up at him. He pets down the smooth fur of her head. “Consider me jealous, girl.”

Blue licks his wrist and palm when he pulls away. 

The sun is sitting pretty on the horizon and he sighs out relief, all the worries of yesterday, and focuses on the new day beginning. Time to enjoy it for the next ten minutes. These early morning moments of silence are the ones that always—

_Baby, lock them doors and turn the lights down low—_

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbles. 

Blue jolts her head in surprise at the sound that is rumbling out of the front pocket of Ashton’s jeans and he groans, fumbling the phone out of his pants to check the caller ID.

 _ **Cal** is calling…_

Because of fucking course he is. Because he has no respect for Ashton or his time. 

He answers the call and puts it to the phone to his ear, knowing his voice comes out as irritated when he speaks. “It’s sunrise, Cal; I’m at the creek. What is it?”

There’s some shuffling from the other end like Calum is pressing his hand against the receiver to muffle it and Ashton scrunches his nose as the static fizzles into his brain through his ear canal. 

Finally, after several painful seconds, Calum manages to get a grip on the phone and his voice comes through in an excited hiss, “there’s a car in the lot.”

“A car?” Ashton repeats, unamused, fiddling his fingers over the tear in his jean’s kneecap. “Yeah, it’s probably Matt coming to bet early. Why would you call me to—”

“No, it’s a nice car,” Calum interrupts and Ashton pauses. 

There’s some shuffling and Calum sounds a little more distant like he’s pulled the phone away momentarily. Ashton imagines him craning out to look from a hiding place before ducking back. 

He says, “Like Lamborghini kind of nice. Makes you think of a sleazy politician kind of nice.”

Ashton blinks a few times before he asks, confused, “We have a Lamborghini in the lot?”

“No, no it’s not _actually_ a Lamborghini,” Calum blabbers, “it’s just one of those Lamborghini _types_. One of those douchebag cars, y’know? The ones that are like ‘ooh look at me, instead of _telling_ you my dick is small, I’ll trick out the rims on my tires and that’ll tell you for me.’”

Ashton laughs as he rises from the stone, patting the side of his thigh for Blue to follow him, which she does, as he starts picking his way back through the trail at a snail’s pace. “What d’you have against nice car owners, huh, Cal? Mater not working out for you anymore? Do I sense vehicle envy?”

‘Mater’ is what they all call Calum’s rusty ass pick up truck which has no business still running but somehow does, fondly named after the _Cars_ cartoon that Calum swears up and down is better than _The Lion King_ which is, inherently, incorrect. 

“You sense _confusion_ and—” Calum makes a sound of inquiry from the back of his throat— “What’s a synonym for ‘I’m not impressed by your shiny bumper even though you want me to be’?”

“I don’t know.” Ashton snorts, replying in a dramatic tone, “Lack of interest in another’s hubris? You have sophrosyne and won’t be lured by their devilish machine temptation.”

“Ash, buddy,” Cal replies and it sounds like he is shifting the phone again like he’s hiding it in his neck and shoulder and Ash can make out fuzzy voices prattling in the background like someone else is talking. “Sometimes you say words I don’t even know the meaning of. I swear, half the time you make ‘em up. What the _fuck_ is a sophafine?”

“Sophrosyne,” Ashton corrects easily, crunching his way back through the fallen autumn leaves and the cattails, Blue bounding along at his side, merely happy to be included in the day’s events. “It’s the opposite of hubris. Means you’ve got good character.”

“Well, I do have that,” Calum agrees in deep thought and Ashton is about to tease him for it when there’s a sound—like that of a screen door swinging closed—and Calum hisses into the phone, “Wait, holy shit, a guy’s got out. There was a guy in the car.”

“Yeah… Someone had to be driving it,” Ashton answers.

“Ash,” Calum stresses and he sounds on the verge of laughter, voice muffled like he’s clapped a hand over his mouth. He says, “Okay, dude, you’ve gotta see this.”

“Why? What is it?” Ashton wonders, his strides growing longer. He’s about a quarter of a mile from the barn now—can see the tin roof over the trees; maybe if he jogs he could make it back in a couple of minutes tops. 

“You’re just gonna have to see it for yourself, but I gotta tell you—” Calum sniffs and his voice edges on humor— “Wowie.”

“Okay, I’m coming. Be there in five,” Ashton decides, hanging up and pocketing his phone, quickening his pace to a jog. He clicks his tongue for Blue to run with him over the uneven ground and, like the well-trained dog she is, she does.

Within a split second, however, she has passed by him and he chuckles to himself, running after her, watching the way her legs bound over the ground, leaving him long behind in her dust. 

There are two things that he’ll never stop being in awe of; the view of a warm sunrise from the creek on a workday and how fast greyhounds can run if they’ve got somewhere worth going.

***

When Ashton makes it to the barn, he is unsurprised to see Calum hiding behind the right wall, fingers braced on the edge of the building, peering out from his hiding place like he’s some sort of spy.

“You’re not in _Ocean's Eleven_ , y’know,” Ashton says as he draws nearer and Calum jumps about two feet in his skin, flipping around with a sharp yelp, raising one arm like he’s going to hit Ashton, which makes him laugh, adding, “and you’re not in _Karate Kid_ either.”

Calum glowers at him as he lowers his hands, wiping off the front of his shirt to distract from the fact that he just tried to karate chop Ashton in the face. He says, “don’t patronize me, Irwin.”

Ashton smiles. “Show me the car.”

Calum peeks around the corner, continuing to stand flush against the wall, and he gestures his head—like he’s speaking code—to the dirt lot out in front of the gable, where several cars are parked. 

One, there’s Calum’s rusty as shit excuse for a car, Mater. Two, Michael’s dusty yellow jeep they call Bumblebee. And third, there’s Ashton’s powder blue truck parked next to Calum’s, which they call Beeper. 

They’re the only three people on site right now, considering that it’s the middle of August and the next race isn’t until the end of September.

For now, they’re the only three who really need to be there. They work hard enough to not need anyone else and their foreman, Mitch, will come by at the end of the week and make sure everything is running smoothly, which it always is. 

But, there’s a fourth car in the lot today that does not belong to anyone Ashton knows. 

It’s a fucking silver Porsche that looks like it has never left a garage in all its life because it is a _shiny_ type of clean, except for the mud that has been rucked up onto its tires from the drive down their dirt road to get to the lot itself, and Ashton stands there, dumbfounded, while looking at it because why the _fuck_ is there a Porsche in their lot?

“I know!” Calum emphasizes, nodding his head hurriedly in response to Ashton’s silence. “That’s what I thought!”

Ashton turns to look at Calum, brows raised. He asks, “What the hell?”

Calum waves his hands. “I know!”

“No, seriously, what the hell?” Ashton takes a couple steps forward to examine the car, and Blue follows after him carefully, her nose pointed forward, ears flat against her head as she tries to make sense of the new beast that is among them. She hugs herself to his leg as he turns to look back at Calum. “Cal, that’s a fucking Porsche.”

“It’s a douchebag car!” Calum insists. 

Ashton straightens up, walking back towards him, Blue by his side, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to the car. “Why is there a fucking Porsche in our lot?” 

“I have no goddamn clue,” Calum starts to say, “but you should have seen the bastard that was in it, I mean, he was—”

The door of the gable swings open and Ashton and Calum both snap their heads to see the two people walking out of the barn’s head office. 

One of them is, of course, their very own Michael Clifford, who is ruffling a hand through his hair, nodding along to whatever the other man is saying, which sounds quite like, “thank you so much, Michael, seriously. You don’t even understand how much this means to—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Michael’s voice cuts him off in an awkward laugh and his hand moves from his hair to the back of his neck. “Listen, you just go set yourself up at the motel today; I already called Sierra at the front desk to let her know to have a clean room for you. And tomorrow we can show you around, if—”

He directs his eyes to the side and instantly stops talking, having caught sight of Ashton and Blue who are out in the open, standing beside the house and Ashton smiles awkwardly at him upon being noticed, hoping the way he squints his eyes is endearing enough to not cause concern. 

Calum, meanwhile, has slunk into the shadows so Michael won’t notice him. 

“Morning, Mike,” Ashton greets, saluting him with two fingers, trying to come off as casual, and not give off the fact that he was snooping around some other bastard’s Porsche.

“Hey, Ash…” Michael starts to say, skeptical, voice trailing off as his eyes land on Blue who is sitting next to him on the dirt, scratching at her ear with a hind leg. Michael raises a brow, asking, “still giving her special treatment, huh?”

“She’s a classy lady,” Ashton replies, “she deserves it.”

“Uh-huh.” Ashton half expects him to tack on, ‘speaking of classy ladies’ but he forgoes the joke in favor of clearing his throat and saying, “Well, since you’re here, I might as well introduce you, I guess. Even though we were supposed to do this tomorrow.”

He sidesteps to reveal who he’s been talking to, keeping one hand on the back of his neck, fiddling with the foxtail of his hair, and gestures to the young man with his other. 

“Ashton, this is Luke Hemmings,” he introduces, “Luke, this is Ashton Irwin.”

Ashton directs his eyes to the man and he tries not to smile too big, or snort too hard, because he doesn’t want ‘Luke’ to think he’s laughing at him, even though he really _does_ want to laugh at him.

Reason being, this Luke guy has no business being on their farm, or _any_ farm for that matter. Not with the way he looks.

He’s the type of guy who’s pretty in a feminine sort of way, with delicate features that are complete with soft pink lips, porcelain blue eyes, and curly golden hair framing his face. He’s tall, sure, but he looks like he wishes he were small, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot when Ashton’s gaze lands on him. 

He’s wearing a nice jacket—definitely worth a couple hundred at least—and a nice black shirt that is unbuttoned down to his heart, along with velvet pants, clicking around on the dusty porch with violently silver heeled boots. 

The man has no reason to be here, not with those crisp ass boots. Not a single one. 

Ashton can’t help himself; before Luke even opens his mouth, he announces, “that makes you the owner of the douche-mobile, doesn’t it?” 

Calum fights back a giggle from where he is pressed against the barn wall. 

Luke, as he has been labeled, sends a nervous glance to the parked Porsche before he gives one to Ashton, and Ashton almost enjoys the genuine fear in his baby blue eyes. It’s interesting. 

Luke tumbles over his words, massaging one of his wrists, to say, “uh, yeah, it’s—”

“ _Ashton_ ,” Michael reprimands in a sharp tone and Ashton raises both his hands in surrender, trading smiles. Michael assures Luke, “don’t worry, he’s only kidding.”

Calum sniggers and Ashton sends him a sideways glance, making the same sort of noise, because he definitely isn’t kidding and everyone in the lot knows that he isn’t kidding. 

Luke keeps looking scared. He’s got very young eyes.

“Okay, so,” Michael continues pointedly at Luke, gesturing with a hand, “go to the motel, set yourself up, and meet back here at seven tomorrow, okay? I’ll give you the tour around then and we can make our final arrangements. Want you to explore town yourself first, before I go giving you real work.”

He claps Luke on the shoulder, who twitches at the contact, forcing on a smile. 

He says, nervously shifting away, “Yeah. Thanks so much, Michael, seriously—” he glances at Ashton, wetting his lips— “And, uh, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Irwin... I think, anyway.”

“Likewise,” Ashton deadpans and Luke sends one more feeble gaze between him and Michael before he’s off the porch and clicking his way over the dirt to his Porsche that has no right to be in their lot. 

Ashton’s eyes trail him as he goes, and sure the guy’s got a nice ass and he’s pretty, but pretty ain’t a job, and his boots don’t walk the soil like they should. 

“You were mean,” Michael says when Luke’s car door closes and Ashton doesn’t look back at him.

“I was honest,” he scoffs. “What’s he doing here?”

Calum takes this as the opportunity to peak out from behind the wall as the Porsche revs up and pulls away down the bumpy street, treading uneasily over the rocks, making an awkward grumble as it does. 

“Yeah,” he seconds. “Is he a bettor?”

“Where’s he from?” Ashton turns around. “Cause it’s not around here.” 

Michael rolls his eyes, making his way down to the last step from the small porch. He glances at Calum, frowning. “Cal, were you hiding behind the wall?”

Calum pauses. “No?”

“What’s he doing here?” Ashton repeats, firmer, folding his arms over his chest as he walks back towards the grange. Blue is staring up at him, one of her ears folded inside out. 

Michael looks between Calum—who is walking out from beside the building, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity, tucking his hands into his back pockets—and then Ashton, who has clenched his jaw shut.

“He’s a friend,” Michael answers, avoiding their eyes.

“You have a friend who owns a _Porsche_?” Calum raises his brows. “Where the hell has he been all this time? That’s a pretty damn shifty thing to have in your back pocket, Mike.”

“Well, I haven’t talked to him in like five years!” Michael protests urgently, like he’s been somehow caught in a lie, stepping further onto the dusty ground, his boots landing flat on the dirt. 

“So what the hell was he doing in our lot?” Calum demands and he has ended up right beside Ashton by now, hands stuffed tight in his pockets, rocking back on the balls of his feet. 

“Parking,” Michael replies somewhat mutely. 

Ashton’s voice is hard. “ _Mike_.”

“I gave him a job,” Michael blurts. 

Calum and Ashton both go rigid, eyes shooting open and in unison, they bark out, “you _what_!”

“You can’t just give people jobs,” Calum protests while Ashton argues, “he doesn’t look like he’s ever even _seen_ a farm, much less worked one.”

“I am not parking next to a Porsche!” Calum adds in a rage and Ashton points at Calum with a hurried nod of his head because he agrees. There is no _way_ he is parking his light blue Beeper next to a fucking shiny ass Porsche in a dirt lot. 

“Alright, shut up, the both of you!” Michael yells at them and begrudgingly, Calum and Ashton let their voices fizzle out to listen to him. “Here’s the deal, Luke and I went to middle school together, okay? Way back when. That’s how I know him. Haven’t heard shit from the guy in who knows how long, but about a week ago he messaged me and asked for a job.”

“And you gave him one?” Calum laments. 

“Listen, okay; Luke is a good man,” Michael asserts, pointing a finger, “sure, he doesn’t fit in so much right now—”

“Doesn’t fit in at all,” Ashton mutters.

“But—” Michael narrows his eyes— “he needs the work, and he’s willing to try. Give him a chance and we’ll see how it goes. If by the race, he’s fucked everything up, we can tell him it’s not working out, okay? But right now, just hold your horses, boys, and stop being such dicks.”

Calum doesn’t say anything, folding his arms and pouting out his full bottom lip. Ashton meanwhile, isn’t so convinced. It’s reminding him of something that he doesn’t want to be reminded of.

“Okay. We can give him two months,” Ashton decides, shrugging, even though he really doesn’t have a say, he just likes to pretend he does. He raises a finger. “But if he fucks with my dogs, Mike, I’ll lay him on his ass.”

Calum chuckles and Michael lends Ashton the benefit of a flat smile. Blue is sitting happily at Ashton’s side and he bends down a tad to rub her floppy ears, fixing the one that had been turned inside out.

“Duly noted, Ash,” Michael says, watching Ashton’s fingers caress Blue’s fur. “We won’t let Luke fuck with you or your dogs.”

***

As previously promised, Luke’s Porsche returns to the dirty lot at seven am sharp the next morning.

The tires are dirtier than they were yesterday, like Luke has taken his time driving around town, throwing mud onto the base of the car, and Ashton tries not to spend too much time surveying it as he passes through the lot, three of his dogs trailing behind him as he takes them on their morning walk around the property. 

Wally, a blonde and white dog, shoves his black nose up against the car’s side to sniff it deeply before he proceeds to hike his leg up and piss on the side of the tire. 

Ashton laughs, berating, “Wally, no, down!”

Wally lowers his leg, shaking his coat out as he runs to follow Ashton and the two other dogs at his heels. 

As he’s making his way to the kennel, he catches sight of two people on the outskirts of the fence—Michael and Porsche-owning Luke Hemmings, no doubt—Michael taking his time to spread an arm out and gesture to the field, where two of their Appaloosas are snuffling their noses against the grass at their hooves. 

Ashton walks closer to them, finally able to make out the end of Michael’s sentence which is, “only eleven horses on our land, opposed to the forty-seven—”

“Greyhounds,” Ashton fills in for him, and Michael and Luke turn their heads to watch him walk up, putting his hands into his pants pockets, and fixing the toothpick he is chewing into the corner of his mouth to speak more easily. “Heya, Mike. Luke.”

“Yeah, forty-seven greyhounds,” Michael agrees, dropping his hands to his side. “Hey, Ash. Taking your morning laps?”

“Yep,” Ashton replies, nodding down to the dogs beside him that are all looking on at Luke with narrowed eyes, who is cowering slightly against the fence, eyes trained on the dogs, that wonderful sort of innocent fear concentrated in blue irises. Ashton chuckles, assuring him, “They won’t bite.”

Luke swallows, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt which is just as nice as the one he was wearing yesterday, except that this one is black and red, and is tucked neatly into leather pants. “O-oh.” 

All in all, he’s definitely a good looking guy; Ashton will be the first to admit that. Good looking in the way that he doesn’t look like anyone Ashton has ever known in this town. Nobody dresses like that. Mostly because it’s completely impractical. 

And, while it makes him want to laugh to an extent, it also makes him want to see what other outfits this ‘Luke Hemmings’ has in his wardrobe.

“Giving him the grand tour, huh, Mike?” Ashton asks, smiling, biting his teeth down on his toothpick. Michael nods and Ashton directs his eyes to Luke. “You liking it so far?”

Luke hurries to bob his head, saying, “it’s beautiful. I hear you’ve been working here a while.”

Ashton takes the toothpick out of his mouth and holds it between two fingers. “I have.”

“Ashton here is our—” Michael snaps his fingers like he’s forgotten the word, looking at Ashton for help— “Have we come up with a real title for it yet? It feels so shitty introducing you as a dog corral-er.”

Ashton chuckles. “Cal likes to say I’m on ‘bitch patrol.’”

“Ashton is in charge of the greyhounds,” Michael supplies through a small chuckle, and Luke is staring between them, like he’s struggling to process any of the words they are saying. “Mostly just, gives them a good quality of life, y’know? Keeps them happy.”

Ashton rubs his toothpick between his fingers. “Can’t race a depressed dog.” 

When Luke looks at him, his blue eyes are vibrant in the sunshine, similar to that of a sunrise reflecting off a creek in the morning light. 

“If you go by the kennels later, Mike, feel free to send him in,” Ashton says, darting his gaze over Luke’s face, hoping Luke knows what that means; _you’re cute and you’re wearing the wrong damn clothes to be on my property. Maybe you should take them off_. “I’m sure I can put him to work somewhere.”

Luke’s eyes widen a bit and he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, before Michael fills in, “he’s going to the stable today, so Cal’s the one that’s gonna run point.”

“Huh. Shame, that.” Ashton fixes his toothpick back into his mouth, and he sways back. “Whelp; hope you enjoy your stay, Luke. Suppose I’ll be seeing you later. Like your boots, by the way.”

Luke’s eyes shoot to the heeled shoes he is wearing, not silver as yesterday’s but instead a deep violet, and the edges of their base are already sinking in the dirt. They won’t be pristine purple for long. 

Ashton beckons his dogs with a whistle between his teeth and within a second they have followed, and he walks back the way he came to finish the morning’s lap around their six acres (racing track not included).

As he walks away, he catches Luke’s timid voice wonder to Michael, “uhm, can I ask… Is he—?” 

Michael’s voice returns in a snort, “A friend of Dorothy? Yeah. Don’t even think about it.”

Ashton smirks to himself as he walks away.

***

Ashton drops Wally and the other dogs back at the kennel, easing them into their respective crates, making sure they’re comfortable on their cotton beds before he locks them in.

As he trails down the hall, the dogs that see him passing yip loudly, pressing their paws up to the chicken wire. He assures the room, “don’t worry. You’ll get your turns.”

He makes it to the back of the hall where his side office is, walking in to find his desk, and Blue of course laying on her bed in the corner of the room. 

He walks to her, gently petting her head, and saying in a soft voice, “your boy Wally pissed on Pretty Boy’s Porsche.”

As if she thinks it as funny as he does, she thumps her tail against the bed and barks her excitement. He laughs, scratching behind her ear.

“I know! Cal’s gonna love it when I tell him.” He gestures with his head. “C’mon, you wanna go on a walk?”

Upon the sound of the ‘w’ word, Blue is on her feet, her entire body wiggling with how fast she is wagging her tail at the suggestion. 

“Who’d you want to come with us?” Ashton asks. “We’re gonna go meet Cal. You want the twins?”

Blue is a dog so she doesn’t really know what he’s saying but Ashton likes to sometimes pretend she does based on how she snorts in excitement like she agrees. 

He lets her follow him out of the office, walking to the one crate with two dogs, opening it easily so the two black greyhounds can tumble out, barking happily at his feet. He grins, rubbing their chins before he walks down the hall. 

All his dogs know to follow behind him when he leaves the kennel.

He makes his way to the ring across the property, about an acre from the kennel, the twins bounding through the grass away from him but managing to maintain at least a hundred foot radius. 

They won’t ever run too far from him and if they do, they always know to come back. 

As he gets to the ring, he can spot Calum leading one of the only buckskins they have on the farm, Almond, around the circle of dirt. 

He comes to a stop, leaning against the wooden fence and folding his arms over the top of it, his eyes tracing Calum as he walks; the dirty, torn jeans, and checkered shirt, brown boots clunking along, a cap situated on his head. Now that’s how people are supposed to dress. 

Ashton whistles to let him know he’s there. 

“Hey!” Calum calls upon sight of Ashton, flashing him a bright smile as he walks Almond closer. “If it isn’t the man of my dreams!”

“Don’t flirt; it gets you nowhere with me,” Ashton says back through a grin, watching as the twins bound through the gaps between the fence boards to dart across the dirt. 

Most horses would spook but Almond is well acquainted with the dogs by this time and all she does is snort in their direction and shake her mane out. 

“Who said I was flirting?” Calum asks, taking Almond to Ashton’s side of the fence and stopping, releasing her lead rope and hanging it over her back. “I can’t show my best friend affection now? Is it against the law to love my brother?”

“No.” Ashton cocks a brow, grinning as he replies, “but it _is_ against the law to tell me you like the way I handle my dogs, and ‘wish you could be my bitch too.’ Could be considered workplace harassment.” 

Calum laughs, leaning against the fence beside him on the opposite side so their elbows graze, Almond blinking her big black eyes and shaking her head again as a fly tries to land on her nose. “C’mon, don’t tell me that didn’t make your pants just a _little bit_ tighter.”

Ashton grins at him, moving the toothpick around to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. “It didn’t but it’s cute that you think it would.”

“Oh, my heart doth swoon, sir Irwin; how you pierce my heart with thine words of lust,” Calum purrs and Ashton shoves him in the shoulder so he stumbles back from the fence, lightly bumping into Almond’s side who snorts at him. He gasps in mock offense, saying, “hey! Don’t push me into my horse, you bastard!”

“Not so in love with me now, huh?” Ashton says in a snicker. He waits for Calum to settle, still smiling, before he changes subjects entirely, by asking, “Have you talked to Luke yet?”

“The Pretty Porsche Boy?” Calum returns, running his hand over Almond’s back to soothe her after falling into her side. 

“Yeah.” Ashton bobs his head. “His name is Luke.”

“Mmm, I’m about ninety percent sure it’s ‘Pretty Porsche Boy,’ or for short PPB, but okay.” Calum scrunches his nose up. “What about him?”

“He seems nice,” Ashton decides, resting his head on his folded arms on the fence, which really means, _I like his clothes, and I like his face, and his body isn’t bad. How long do you think it’ll take me to convince him into bed? He seems skittish; I don’t want to scare him off. Is wooing still a thing that people do today? Could woo him if I tried._

“Oh, Irwin, you getting a crush now?” Calum asks, because he always knows what Ashton means, even when Ashton doesn’t say it aloud, brushing through Almond’s coat as the twins bound around in the dirt, Blue sitting politely at Ashton’s feet. “Am I gonna have to fight someone for your affection?”

“No,” Ashton says in a snort, shaking his head, “don’t fight him, you would only scare the poor kid.”

Calum sniggers in agreement. “He’s real… nervous, huh? Jumpy. Like a cat.”

“Yeah…” Ashton trails off in thought. He rolls his chin on his arm, moving his toothpick around in his mouth. It’s thoughtful, promising. “He’s got secrets.”

Calum exhales roughly, rubbing his nails through Almond’s thin hair. “Of course you’d like that.”

“What can I say?” Ashton shrugs, smiling up at Calum. “I’ve got a type.”

“If only I had abandonment issues, and a traumatic past,” Calum laments, raising the back of his palm to his forehead, which is beginning to perspire in the heat of the sun, even with the bill of his cap shading his face; Ashton needs to get his own hat if the sun keeps glaring like it is. “Maybe then you’d want to get into this saddle.”

“I hate your horse jokes,” Ashton says with a grin. “Horses aren’t sexy and they never will be.”

“And neither are cats,” Calum returns, “and yet you’re _coveting_ one of those, aren’t you?”

“Well, he’s a cat with secrets.” Ashton adjusts his toothpick with his fingers, shielding his eyes from the sun so he doesn’t have to squint so hard.

“That’s gonna bite you in the ass one day,” Calum informs him, looking over his shoulder to watch the twins still running in circles in the dirt, leaving paw prints and skid marks in the sandy material. He grunts, “man, I _just_ fucking combed that this morning, get your little dicks under control.”

Ashton shouts, “Othello, Iago! Come!”

The twins jerk their heads up, nearly bumping into one another as they hurry to return to Ashton’s side, tumbling over each other’s paws in their hurry. They’re young, and they’re stupid, but they’re endearing little dogs. 

Calum watches them with Ashton and notices, “they’re fast. Are they gonna race next month?”

Ashton shakes his head. “No, I still don’t think they’re there yet. We’re going with Saber, Bullet, Neo, and whoever the regulars bet on.”

Calum nods slowly. “Good choices. Blue’s still out?”

They both direct their eyes to the little grey dog who is sitting at Ashton’s feet, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she gazes up at the both of them, her tail thumping against the ground. 

Ashton smiles softly at her. She’s a pretty girl. “Yeah. She’ll be out a while.”

“It’s not safe to play favorites, y’know,” Calum remarks in passing, “Mitch won’t like it if—”

“You let me deal with my dogs, okay?” Ashton’s voice hardens. “And don’t lecture me on favorites when you’ve walked the same horse around the ring every morning this week. Pot? Kettle? Black?”

Calum smiles at him, eyebrows tilting up. “Ash, you know that I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Not like you can prevent that,” Ashton says in a chuckle. “We’ve already established that I have a thing for pretty boys with secrets. Getting hurt isn’t something we can hide from.”

Calum returns, “Sometimes I think you’re a sadist.”

“Masochist,” Ashton corrects. 

“Yeah.” Calum rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I think you’re a masochist.”

And he makes a good point, sure, but that’s not really the case. 

Ashton doesn’t _like_ being hurt. It’s simply gotten to the point where he’s not surprised anymore when he is.

***

It isn’t until the end the next day that Ashton really sees Luke again, because he’s been so preoccupied with getting all the dogs their necessary attention, and Neo had started vomiting after he’d gotten into some damn poinsettia so Ashton had had to take care of that.

He’s walking from the kennel to the barn, wiping his hands off with a handkerchief, when he hears a voice coming from inside the stable. 

He slows down enough to truly catch what it is saying, a distraught series of curses and a, “are you fucking serious right now?”

He smiles to himself, recognizing the voice albeit a new one, easily turning the corner and slipping inside the open building to see Luke propped against the wall, standing on one boot, the other shoe in his hand, banging it against the wall to get something off its heel. 

Ashton chortles as he walks inside, calling, “you step in shit?”

Luke looks up in surprise, ceasing his actions to stand dumbstruck against the wall, his sock-clad foot raised from the floor like he’s practicing a flamingo impression. He says, “oh, hi, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Ashton grins at him, tucking his kerchief into the back pocket of his jeans. “Yeah, you tend to do that around here. You should probably start wearing some different shoes to work.”

Luke darts his eyes from the shiny boot in his hand to Ashton’s face. 

“And some new clothes,” Ashton adds, “wouldn’t want to fuck up that fine silk, now would we?”

Luke laughs nervously before admitting, “I don’t have any other clothes… I mean, anything other than these types, I mean.”

Ashton snickers. “Figures. Well, I got plenty extra, and you’re more than welcome to any of them if you don’t wanna ruin your fancy drapes. When you go to the barn office again, just tell Mike to give you one of my boxes.” 

Luke takes a moment, as if he’s really thinking on it and deciding on whether or not he should decline, before he says, “thanks. I’d appreciate that.” 

Ashton figures that Luke’s the type of person who’s realized by now that it’s better to just accept gifts than turn them down. Ashton still isn’t. He’s the sort of person who doesn’t like to take from people. Feels too easy. Cheap. 

Nothing good has ever come from owning somebody something.

He says, “it’s no problem. Might as well be hospitable, if you’re going to be working here.”

Luke wets his lips, and a beat of thought flashes in his blue eyes. They haven’t lost their fear yet, and Ashton wonders if they ever will. He says, hesitantly, “you don’t _like_ me working here, do you?”

Ashton is a little surprised that he even asked. He says, “I just—I don’t know you s’all. No dislike though. I don’t know you enough to dislike you.”

Luke wets his lips, nodding, and it seems that has somewhat calmed his nerves as the tension bleeds out from his shoulders. 

“Granted,” Ashton adds and Luke looks up. “Don’t know you enough to _like_ you either.”

Luke smiles at him, and he’s really something else, isn’t he? 

Standing there in the dusty, dim light of the stables on one foot, holding a polished boot in one hand that has shit on its sole, wearing his fancy silk shirt that is opened three buttons too many and tight pants, his golden curls messy and his blue eyes so big and curious of Ashton. 

He is… something fucking else. 

He asks, “is this the part where I try and convince you to like me?”

“Oh no,” Ashton says, waving a hand, “you can’t _try_. That’s cheating.”

“Has to be a natural thing?” Luke asks and Ashton nods along. “Well, what if _I_ don’t like _you_?”

Ashton’s grin broadens. “Don’t know. S’never happened to me before.”

“You trying to tell me you’re perfect, Mr. Irwin?” Luke asks, and there’s some humor to his tone that excites Ashton. Makes him think he’s got a chance. 

He corrects, “It’s Ashton. And I’m not trying to tell you anything.”

“Right.” Luke tips his head and golden curls shift. “Because that would be cheating.”

Ashton can’t help but smile at him. “Hey, if you wanna speed up this whole choosing to like or dislike each other, Cal, Mike, and I go to this bar in town on Friday nights. You’re welcome to join us.”

Luke bites at his bottom lip and Ashton tracks the movement. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

“Good. But, uh—” Ashton gestures with a hand to him— “Make sure to get yourself some clothes before then. I get you’re not from here, but… I wouldn’t want to announce it like that.”

Luke looks down at himself, tugging at the front of his shirt like he’s surprised he’s wearing it. “Oh. Right, okay.”

Ashton almost adds, _and a new car while you’re at it. No one here wants to be parking next to a damn Porsche._ But he figures he’s said enough for one meeting and politely excuses himself back to the kennel, leaving Luke and his ruined boot in the stable alone.

***

“He’s wearing your clothes.”

“Huh?” Ashton looks up from where he’s sitting, Blue laying beneath his desk raising her head as well out of Calum’s eyesight. He’s standing in front of Ashton, hands braced on the tabletop, eyes narrowed, leaning over Ashton’s work.

Calum repeats, “Pretty Porsche Boy. He’s wearing your clothes.”

Ashton blinks and tries not to let his genuine shock surface, playing it off like he doesn’t even know, directing his eyes back to his papers. He’s writing up a running list for the race next month; better to get it out of the way than wait, and he’s crossing off Neo because the damn dog is still feeling sick after eating that plant. 

He asks nonchalantly, scribbling some words down, “is he? How’d you figure that?”

Calum informs him, “He’s wearing your denim shirt.”

“Maybe he has a matching one.” Ashton shrugs. “Wouldn’t be too out of the realm of possibility. Lots of denim shirts in the world, Cal.”

“It’s got your fucking initials on the pocket,” Calum deadpans. 

That makes Ashton glance up, surprised. “Does it really?”

“Don’t you play coy with me, Irwin.” Calum hits his palm against the desk like he’s playing bad cop. “Why is he wearing your shirt?”

“Because he liked it.” Ashton laughs. “It’s a good shirt, isn’t it? D’you not think it’s a good shirt?”

“What? Of course I think it’s a good shirt. It’s _yours_.” He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “That’s not the point. The point is, PPB is wearing your clothes. And there’s only two ways that comes about; one, you gave him your clothes. Or, two, I am witnessing a walk of shame.”

Ashton stares up at him and he can’t even open his mouth to get a word in edgewise. 

“Where’d you do it, huh?” Calum interrogates, and Ashton half expects him to slap some handcuffs on and shine a light in his face. “This office? The backseat of his Porsche? The fucking hayloft? Do you know how unsanitary that would—Okay, actually, that’s kind of sexy… I mean, being all secretive and quiet up in the— _No!_ I will not be distracted. You fucked him, didn’t you? It’s only been three days, you slut. It’s true what they say, you are who you hang around with, and you, Ashton Irwin, hang out with _dogs_.”

“Woah, Cal, hold on!” Ashton raises his hands, pushing up from his desk and shocking Blue into standing up as well, still out of eyesight. “You can’t just barge into my office and call me a slut!”

Calum brandishes a finger. “The hell I can’t! Slut! You’re a slut!”

“I’m not a slut!” Ashton argues, at a loss, and Blue walks in a concerned circle beneath his desk.

“Are too!” Calum shouts back. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Michael asks from the doorway and Calum and Ashton both snap their heads in a direction. 

Instantly, Calum points at Ashton, and says, “Ashton fucked Pretty Porsche Boy.” 

“Who?” Michael asks and Ashton fills in, “he’s talking about Luke. And I did _not_!”

“Then how come he’s wearing your denim shirt, huh?” Calum shouts. “Explain that one, Irwin!”

“Because I gave it to him!” Ashton says, cheeks red. 

At the same time, Michael is saying, “well, he definitely didn’t fuck him, Luke has good taste.”

“Woah, what the fuck does that mean!” Ashton gasps, his attention turning back on Michael. “When did this become ‘attack Ashton day’? Why the fuck are you two in my office in the first place?”

“It’s closing time,” Michael returns. “And it’s not an insult, you’re just not Luke’s type.”

“I could be!” Ashton folds his arms, scowling at the two of them, hating the fact that Calum has a pleased grin pulling at his lips. 

Michael chuckles. “No offense, Ash, but… I mean, c’mon. Luke is… He drives a Porsche. And you pet dogs for a living.” 

Calum lets out a cackle and Ashton rolls his eyes at the two of them. They’re such jackasses; he has to remind himself daily why he lets them be his friends. But they are, unfortunately, and he loves them to their core, despite how much of assholes they are. 

And, at this point, he’s too old to try and find himself new ones. 

“Number one, ouch. Number two, we’re going to Honey’s tonight, I guess?” Ashton wonders, walking from around his desk. Blue follows him.

“Yeah, that’s why I was coming to get you,” Michael returns, briefly noticing Blue and frowning. “Luke’s coming too. I’d say ‘try not to fuck him’ except for the fact that I don’t think it’s an option.”

Calum laughs again, like now he’s loving this all of a sudden as they walk out of Ashton’s office and Ashton reminds, “okay, well twenty seconds ago, Calum thought it was completely plausible for me to have fucked Luke so.”

“That’s just because Cal is a jealous fuck and jumps to conclusions like he gets paid to,” Michael returns and Calum makes a weak protest. “Oh, don’t pretend, Cal, we all know you want Ashton’s dick. Been talking about it since you were seventeen.”

Calum snorts as they walk the hall, the dogs barking after them. He has no shame in saying, “Okay, well, have you seen it? Tell me you wouldn’t want to try it at least once. Just to know. I swear, you give me twenty minutes, Ash, I’ll ride you like a goddamn pony—”

Ashton elbows him hard in the stomach and Calum laughs as he stumbles. “There’s a _line_ , man.” 

Michael shakes head as he walks ahead of them. “Ash, we all know Calum is so far past the line. The line is a _dot_ to this man.”

***

Honey’s is this nice little dive bar in town and Ashton loves it because everyone knows everyone at Honey’s and everyone knows him, and everyone knows what his drink order is, and what to talk to him about and what not.

It’s safe. It’s home.

But Luke Hemmings doesn’t look like he thinks the same. 

He is sitting at the bar and has been for the last twenty minutes in a state of confusion, both hands clasped around his martini which is not the sort of thing a normal man around here buys, and the bartender had said as much to Luke when he ordered it which had made flush a deep pink in response. 

Ashton had thought to himself that Luke looked awfully cute with blush on his cheeks, and even cuter when he had averted his eyes to the bartop, and scratched painted nails on the wooden surface, apologizing for his order. 

But he’d still bought it, and now he’s taking tiny sips every twenty minutes, his eyes concentrated across the bar and watching the people prattle on together. 

Like Ashton said, everyone knows everyone. And everyone knows who everyone knows and everyone knows that _no one_ knows Luke. 

Luke, who is still wearing Ashton’s denim shirt, and a pair of his old jeans and boots that are obviously a size or two too big on him. He was good looking in silk, and he looks just as good—if not better—in Ashton’s own clothes. 

All Ashton can find himself thinking about is if his shirt is going to smell like Luke’s cologne after this, or if Luke is going to smell like his. 

“You look terrified,” Ashton points out, leaning over to Luke from where he is sitting and Luke looks up at him in surprise, like he hadn’t heard him. It’s not loud at all, so Ashton figures Luke’s thoughts are the thing that’s making so much ruckus. 

“Sorry?” Luke asks and Ashton smiles, scooting one stool over to be closer. 

“I said,” he repeats, “you look terrified.”

Luke lets out a small laugh, glancing down at his martini. “Is it that obvious?” 

“D’you not go out a lot?” Ashton wonders. 

He finds it hard to believe that Luke wouldn’t be the sort of person to enjoy being seen. What with the way he dressed originally, he was practically summoning people’s eyes to gaze on him. 

Although, even now, in an old denim shirt and oversized jeans, Ashton can’t find himself looking at much else in the bar and he comes to the conclusion that maybe it isn’t the clothes, but _Luke_ that invites eyes to stare. 

“Not to places like this,” Luke replies and he takes a second to sip his martini. 

“Y’know, I never asked where you’re from,” Ashton says, watching the way Luke runs his finger over the rim of his glass to collect a bit of salt, only to taste it off his own skin a second later, making Ashton swallow thickly.

“Oh.” Luke sucks gingerly at the tip of his finger in thought. “Up north.”

Ashton can’t help letting out a breathy laugh. “Are you serious? Up _north_? That’s all you’ve got?”

Luke grins hesitantly like he thinks that he should. “Why’re you laughing?”

“You have got secrets coming out your ass, don’t you?” Ashton asks and he watches Luke’s smile falter briefly. 

“What d’you mean?” Luke wonders and over their voices, Ashton can make out a new song coming on, a slow one with the sweet twang of a banjo and he diverts his eyes for a second to where he knows Calum and Michael are currently bickering on to one of their other friends. 

Michael’s been trying to get some girl named Crystal to tumble into bed with him for months now and Ashton recognizes her in an instant, and the way that Michael is pestering her to dance with him to the song, making her giggle. 

Calum meanwhile is already dancing with his friend Roy, who is giggling just like Crystal is, absolutely smitten with Calum’s round cheeks and kind eyes, black curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. 

They’re good people, all of them. 

Everyone in town is a good person, Ashton thinks, and he’s reminded of all those years ago, when he had first stumbled onto the farm’s property and he was just some young, dumb kid who liked to take dogs on walks up to creek edges and needed someone to convince him life was worth living.

And somehow, Michael and Calum had decided he was worthy of their friendship. Decided that that bruised kid in a pickup with stolen money in his back pocket was worth saving.

They are his _people_. 

They were the ones he first told he liked boys (which Calum had promptly seconded with a “little late to that bandwagon, Irwin, I’ve liked boys for years now.”). 

They were the ones who gave him a roof over his head, and a reason to wake up. 

They were the ones to mend his heart when he thought broken things didn’t need fixing. 

He looks back at Luke. This new pretty little blonde thing who’s never been on a farm in his life. Who doesn’t know any of the people in this tiny town. Who doesn’t understand bars, or how to dress for an occasion. 

And he wonders if he’s the sort of person that Ashton can trust to be one of _his_ people. Because, if he wants to stay on the farm, he’ll need to be.

"What are you running from?" Ashton finds himself asking. 

Luke blinks in bewilderment, turning his ear to Ashton like he didn’t hear him right once again, and Ashton is convinced now that it isn’t the music, it’s that Luke’s thoughts must be booming loud. "Huh?"

"What are you running from?" Ashton repeats.

Luke pauses, making this concerned expression, and that fear is back in his blue eyes (but then again, Ashton’s not sure it's ever left). He asks quietly, "Why would you assume I'm running?"

"C'mon.” Ashton tilts his head. “I know the look. I ask where you're from, you say 'up north.' You drive a goddamn Porsche, you wear heeled boots and silk shirts to work in a stable. C'mon, Luke, you don't look like you've ever stepped foot on a farm in your life. You're running from something and you're running fast and far. Trust me, I get it. But there’s good people here. Cal and Mike, they’re good people. So I’m just wondering what you’re running from is, and making sure it’s not gonna catch us when it catches up to you."

Luke stares at him for a second, his blue eyes wide and surprised, and he opens and closes his mouth for some time, trying to come up with the answer before he finally says hoarsely, “It’s not gonna catch up.”

Ashton nods, accepting the answer, and reaching to take his beer bottle off the bar and take a swig of it. “Alright. S’what I needed to know.”

Luke doesn’t touch his martini, his eyes trained on Ashton, like he’s really thinking on something, blue eyes partially squinted. Finally, he has the balls to ask, “are you? Running from something?”

Ashton snorts, the rim of his beer hovering against his lips. “If I am, I’m going in goddamn circles.”

“You said you get it,” Luke points out. “What d’you get about it?”

Ashton wets his lips, gently returning his bottle to the bar, and he says to his side, to Luke and his blonde curls and fear filled blue eyes, “I’ll say it this way; you’re not the only bastard in the world who’s showed up on that farm with one set of clothes, and nowhere else worth going.”

Luke looks at him some time before he takes a hold of the base of his martini glass and raises it between them. Ashton glances from the drink to Luke. 

“What’s this?” he asks. 

“A cheers,” Luke says, tipping his head to Ashton’s beer and Ashton smiles gently, collecting it back from the table. 

“To?”

Luke contemplates, licking the alcohol off his pink lips. “To us.”

“To us, of course,” Ashton agrees. 

“And—” Luke clinks Ashton’s beer bottle with his martini glass— “To places worth stopping for.”

Ashton grins at him and raises his beer back to his lips. He confirms, “absolutely, Hemmings. To places worth stopping for.”

***

Luke is wearing one of Ashton’s many t-shirts that following Monday and he has used a hairband to tie the front of it into a knot to make it a shorter length, and tighter, and when Ashton sees it, he can’t help but bite the inside of his cheek and fight a smile.

Luke is in the middle of grooming one of their Apaloosas, Boaty, and he is whispering in her ear and nodding along, like they’re telling each other secrets.

Ashton walks up with a smile, watching how gently Luke runs the curry comb over her pelt in small circles. He’s reaching his arm to the top of her neck, and the shirt (because of how it's been tied) is riding up enough to show his pale stomach. 

“Maybe you should just cut it into a crop top, if you’re gonna wear it like that,” Ashton jokes as he nears and Luke glances over his shoulder, smiling easily at Ashton’s presence. He seems more comfortable now, which Ashton likes. 

“I don’t want to just cut up your shirts,” Luke replies, focusing back on Boaty’s fur. “That would be rude of me.”

Ashton walks to the other side of the horse to face Luke, saying over her back, “no it wouldn’t. Anything in that box is yours. Do whatever you want; I don’t mind.”

Luke smiles at him. “Are you sure you’re not trying?”

“To what?” Ashton answers like he doesn’t know. 

Luke pets down Boaty’s hair. “To make me like you.”

“Are _you_?” Ashton returns and Luke looks at him through his eyelashes. 

“No,” he says back innocently. 

Ashton chuckles. “Then I’m not either.”

***

Calum is riding Almond around the ring, speaking loudly over the clunk of her hooves in the dirt, “so he has completely desecrated your personal belongings—”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Cutting my t-shirts into crop tops is not _descration_.”

“And yet—” Calum continues, ignoring him— “you still like him. In fact, you dub this destruction of property ‘sexy’ even.”

“Cal,” Ashton says over the fence railing, “imagine if I cut one of your shirts into a crop top and wore it around. All sweaty in the sun, my abs just visibly _flexing_ whenever I did manual labor. Winking at you while I do my work, using the shirt to wipe the sweat off my face.”

“ _Well_ in that case—” Calum starts, tilting his head. 

“Wearing a cowboy hat,” Ashton adds loudly over the dirt and Calum groans, letting his head fall back as Almond trots around. 

“Okay, why would you say that?” Calum asks. “Now I’m picturing it.”

Ashton laughs, putting the toothpick he is holding back into his mouth, chewing around the tip. “Exactly. It’s all I can think about it.”

“ _He_ is all you can think about,” Calum corrects and Ashton shrugs, smiling up at him.

“Yeah, maybe so.” Ashton bites at his toothpick. “But can you blame me?”

“He _is_ cute,” Calum admits, his body lightly bouncing as Almond leads him around the ring on a bumpy ride. “Y’know, in a scared, probably a virgin who blushes when you say ‘fuck’ kind of way.”

Ashton shakes his head, chuckling to himself. He asks, “how’re things with Roy?”

Calum puckers his lips as Almond makes her way to the other side of the ring. “They’re going well. Unfortunately, however, he _is_ falling in love with me.”

“And that’s unfortunate how?” Ashton asks. 

“Because all I wanted was some fucking dick,” Calum complains. He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Why do I have to be so damn lovable, Ash? It’s a curse, I’m telling you.”

“A travesty.” Ashton grins at him, noticing the way that Calum has shifted around on the saddle, adjusted his grip on the reigns, and directed his black eyes away from Ashton to the other side of the property where the other horses are mingling in the field and he feels a wide smile tugging at his lips. He says, “you like him, don’t you?”

Calum snaps his eyes back, aghast, and the way that he hesitates tells Ashton all he needs to know. 

Ashton laughs. “C’mon, Cal! I say go for it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could fall head over heels in love with him, and we could get married and have 2.5 kids and a mortgage,” Calum returns. 

“I like that your biggest fear in life is being happy,” Ashton says. 

“Of course it is.” Calum simpers at him as Almond leads him back to Ashton’s side of the fence. “You ever met ordinary people, Ash? They’re terrifying. Don’t ever let me become average.”

“I won’t,” Ashton promises and Calum winks at him which means _I love you_ and Ashton broadens his smile and chews at his toothpick which means, _I love you too, even if you’re a dumbass_.

***

Blue doesn’t want to go on a walk come Tuesday morning.

Ashton invites her to walk to the creek to him but all she does is pant heavily and walk in circle after circle on her dog bed in his office, and he can feel his stomach do a somersault in his body because it only means one thing.

He swears he’s going to cry with how excited he is. 

But he doesn’t tell anyone, and in place of Blue, he takes Wally and a merle colored dog named Sucre to the creek to watch the sunrise instead.

***

It’s later that same day when Luke overhears it.

It’s just Calum and Ashton having fun and throwing around dumb phrases with each other like they always do while Calum is getting Almond out of her stall for their daily trot around the ring, three greyhounds wandering around his feet. 

And, like his usual self, Calum is being a disgustingly sexual flirt, hanging all over Ashton and giggling the entire time. He’s sporting a bit of a noticeable hangover. 

They’re talking music, like they often do, because they both have an indescribable love for it. 

Ashton mentions the song ‘Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High’ and Calum lets out a genuine moan at just the _thought_ of the bassline, joking, like he always does, “god, I want to be absolutely _railed_ to that song. Ash, next time we’ve got a weekend off, let’s move some furniture around, huh? Oh, pretty please.”

Ashton laughs, hugging Calum around the shoulders and saying with a ruffle of his hair, “only if you’re real nice to me this week.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Luke hovering at the door of the stable, holding onto a hoof pick. The moment Luke realizes Ashton sees him, he ducks out sight and Ashton frowns to himself. But he doesn’t think much of it. 

Not until a few hours later, anyway, when he walks by the stables again after hanging with Calum at the ring. 

Luke is with Boaty (Ashton thinks they all have their favorite animals on the farm even though they shouldn’t, and Boaty is turning into Luke’s), picking out her hooves. 

“Hey,” he says. Othello and Iago are prancing along at his sides. 

Luke doesn’t look up at him. “Hi.”

Ashton stands there for a moment, waiting for Luke to say something else or at least turn and look up at him—give him _something_ , anything at all—but he never does and so Ashton takes a breath, sways back on his feet, and says, “Okay, uh… guess I’ll be going.”

Sometimes people aren’t in the mood; he gets that. But he is a little disheartened. He likes talking to Luke. 

He’s turning to leave when Luke’s voice stops him, fast and afraid, like he didn’t want to have to say it. 

“Are you dating him?”

Ashton raises his brows in alarm, turning back around to find Luke standing next to Boaty with wide blue eyes, holding his hoof pick tightly to himself, and he looks, in a word, sad. 

He’s wearing one of Ashton’s shirts, this orange and white flannel that he has tucked into his jeans, the jeans cuffed above a pair of Ashton’s old ropers. His blonde hair is pulled into a bun and several stands have escaped, clinging to his temples with sweat from the afternoon heat.

Ashton lets out a small laugh, not sure what else to do. “What?”

“Calum.” Luke swallows. “I heard you talking earlier. Are—You’re dating him, right?” 

Ashton can’t help but smile. He assures in a snort, “no. No, Cal and I aren’t—We’re friends. We’re _flirty_ friends, but that’s just how Cal is. If you’d been stuck with him for the last half a decade, he’d be joking about fucking you too.”

Luke exhales sharply, nodding while diverting his eyes to Boaty’s side. The mare flips her tail. “Oh. Okay.”

“Why?” Ashton asks and he risks a smile. “Were you jealous?”

Luke darts his blue eyes up and they are iridescent in the golden light. “I—”

“I’m kidding. You don’t have to answer that.” Ashton laughs to cover up the way his heart has doubled its pace inside his chest. 

Luke’s eyes stay trained on him and Ashton is about to say something else, when Luke answers, “I was.”

Ashton pauses. 

“Jealous,” Luke adds. “I was definitely jealous.”

“Of Cal?” Ashton fills in and Luke chortles to himself quietly. 

“Yeah, of Cal.”

Ashton’s heart is doing laps in his ribcage and he smiles at Luke and it must be the youth in his eyes that Ashton marked earlier that’s making him feel this way. That’s infected him into being nervous like he’s just that dumb eighteen year old who tumbled onto the farm years ago, with nowhere else to go. 

“C’mon,” he says and bobs his head out of the stable. “Come with me; I wanna show you something.”

Luke blinks a few times before the words seem to hit him and he hurries to put his hoof pick down, saying, “Yeah, yeah of course.”

And, along with the greyhounds at his heels, Luke follows Ashton from the stable.

***

Ashton leads Luke into his office, pressing his finger to his lips and whispering, “sh,” as they do. Luke takes the incentive very seriously, and creeps into Ashton’s office like they’re burglars.

“Are we doing something illegal?” he asks and Ashton can’t help but laugh. 

“No, we’re not doing anything—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head— “just look, okay?”

He reaches through the darkness of his office to fumble over his desk to his lamp, turning it on. 

It lights up the corner of the room, sending a dull glare across the room and Luke fights to clear his vision, squinting in the most adorable way and he gives Ashton a questioning glance to ask, _what am I looking for, you creep?_

Ashton smiles eagerly, bobbing his head to the corner of the room beside his desk, and finally Luke travels his eyes to the right portion of the room, and his face melts into awe. 

Blue is laying on her dog bed, stomach rising and falling as she lays there, looking up at Ashton happily and laying next to her are the six wriggling bodies of her puppies, fighting to crawl over one another in their tiny state, squirming to be warmer than the others. 

Slowly, Ashton sinks down to sit beside the bed, reaching out to pet Blue’s head. He looks up at Luke who continues to stand at the door, dumbfounded. 

He finally opens his mouth to hiss, “those are puppies.”

Ashton smiles so big he has to bite his lip to keep it down. “These are puppies.”

Luke crumples to his knees in front of the bed, and he crawls so quietly on all fours to be closer to the dog bed, whispering, “oh my god, they’re so fucking little.”

“Aren’t they?” Ashton says, stroking Blue’s fur. He coos to her, placing a soft kiss on her snout, “Mama did good, huh? What a good dog.”

“Wow.” Luke has his hands resting on his thighs, staring down at the puppies that are nestling into Blue’s side. “I can’t even believe—How old are they?”

“Few hours,” Ashton answers. 

Luke puts a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.” 

Ashton laughs, and he knows he’s only just met Luke a couple of weeks ago now but sitting there, bent on his knees, staring at a pile of puppies with shocked blue eyes, hand clasped over his mouth, blonde hair curling over his ears, Ashton thinks he could fall in love with him. 

Even if that would be a terrible thing, like Calum thinks. Even if it would break his heart again. He feels like it might be worth it. 

Ashton says, “not even Cal has seen these guys yet. You still jealous?”

Luke looks over at him, hand still over his mouth, and something passes through baby blue eyes. He lets his hand fall to his lap and they both sit there on his thighs. He answers, “You’re… Yeah, wow.”

Ashton smirks. “I’m what?”

Luke shakes his head in disbelief like that’s answer enough and doesn’t say anything else, merely focusing back on the puppies. They’re fucking perfect. 

Ashton will never get tired of it. The way they open their little mouths to yawn, pink tongues stretching out. Their tiny paws fighting to make sense of the new earth beneath them. 

And that’s only now, when they’re just born. Soon they’ll open their eyes, their ears, and they’ll explore the world with such naivety. Everything will be beautiful to them. So, so simple. 

A sunrise at the creek and a kiss on the nose will all be the same thing. Every moment just as flawless as the first one and their last. That’s why Ashton has always loved dogs. They love honestly. There’s no such thing as a broken heart in their book. 

He doesn’t know how to say that to Luke, so he tries, “I came here when I was eighteen. And, I was in the same boat as you, y’know. I didn’t know if it was one of those places.”

Luke’s blue eyes are almost glistening in the light. 

“That you can trust, I mean.” Ashton hopes that he’s saying this right. “It took me a while to figure it out, but I’m promising you, you can trust it. Whatever you’re running away from, you can stop here.”

Luke stares at him for a long time. Like he’s really processing the words that Ashton has said and he takes in a few deep breaths, his chest rising deeply and falling again. He needs to get enough air in to say the words. And he looks on at the puppies, snuffling around and whining.

Their honesty in the way they exist. 

And he admits to Ashton, “I’m running away from me.”

Ashton doesn’t need to say anything with his voice to urge Luke to continue; he says it in his silence, and his willingness to listen. 

“I had a good life, I’m not gonna say I didn’t,” Luke says, shrugging, rubbing at one of his sleeves nervously. There’s fear in saying it out loud. “But there were people around that… maybe weren’t the best for me, and I was doing things that I didn’t want to do so I could _please_ them, y’know?”

Ashton knows. 

“And every day I was just going deeper and deeper into this lie, trying to convince myself that it was really what I wanted. That I was doing it to make myself happy.” Luke squints. “And then there was this one night where… I couldn’t go to sleep. It wouldn’t come. I counted sheep, drank warm milk. Took fucking Z-quill. Nothing did the trick. And I just laid in bed. I mean, for fucking _hours_. Just stared at the ceiling and I _thought_. About everything. Everyone. And I realized… that I wasn’t the sort of person that I thought I was. I realized I didn’t like _me_ anymore.”

His eyes seek Ashton’s, like he needs some sort of confirmation that what he’s said is right, and he takes a sharp breath in, breathing the life back into himself after he let it all pour out with the words. 

Ashton stares at him. He nods to himself and takes a second to say, “Okay. _Okay_.”

He wipes his hands on his jeans. 

“Well, then let’s work on you being someone you like again.” He flashes an awkward grin, bobbing his head. “I mean, Hell, Luke, I’ve only known you like two weeks and I’m already halfway in love with you so it shouldn’t be that hard to convince yourself of it.”

Luke leans across the tiny space and kisses him. 

His pink lips are smooth like silk and he tilts his head to slot their mouths more together, breathing in through his nose and Ashton lets his eyes drift close. 

Yeah. Absolutely. 

He will, no doubt about it. 

He will let Luke Hemmings break his heart. 

They draw apart and he lets out a small laugh, Luke seconding the sound into the air and they sit there for a second, mouths barely two inches apart, _laughing_.

Ashton thinks, _this is what it must be like in their hearts. This must be how it feels to love like them. Headfirst. Flawlessly._

The puppies, as if agreeing, whine as they wriggle against Blue’s stomach and she reaches her nose to bump into Ashton’s hand and lick over his palm. 

And, even though his heart is pounding in his chest and his breath feels like it isn’t getting into his lungs properly, the severity of the moment dragging him down, Ashton manages to say, “you don’t have to run anymore. If you don’t want to. You don’t have to.”

Luke kisses him again, softer, simpler. He mumbles into Ashton’s lips, “I’m not.”

Ashton kisses him back. 

He’s not running either.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> If you want to, pop by to say hi on Tumblr.


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